


One Last Look

by rei_c



Series: Mashups and Crossovers [15]
Category: Midsommar (2019), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Claudia Stilinski's Backstory, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Midsummer, Rituals, Sheriff Stilinski is Not Stiles Stilinski's Parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22050784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: Stiles collapses to the floor with a groan and tells the ceiling, "I'm going to visit my mom's family. I'll be gone for a couple weeks in July."
Relationships: Derek Hale & Peter Hale, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Mashups and Crossovers [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1489115
Comments: 33
Kudos: 323





	One Last Look

There's two weeks of school left before graduation and the pack's spread out in Derek's loft, ignoring the movie they ostensibly came over to watch in favour of discussing their summer plans. Lydia and her mother are going to Tokyo for a mathematics conference -- apparently Lydia submitted a paper and she's been asked to present on a panel -- and Peter's taking Malia to visit a pack he knows in Louisiana. 

Stiles collapses to the floor with a groan and tells the ceiling, "I'm going to visit my mom's family. I'll be gone for a couple weeks in July." 

Scott sits up, head tilted to one side. Derek would roll his eyes at the expression but he's gotten used to it -- mostly, although he still thinks Scott looks vaguely ridiculous -- and he actually understands it this time. Stiles hadn't mentioned any trips he was planning on taking. 

"You're going to Sweden?" Scott asks. "That's awesome! This is, like, the first time you've planned a trip in years, Stiles. I know how much you miss them all." 

Stiles pauses, as if he's thinking about the timing, trying to figure out how long it's been since he's gone -- and to _Sweden_ , when Derek assumed that Stiles' family was entirely Polish? -- and then he brightens up. "You should come with me!" The pack, already quiet in the throws of a pizza food coma, stills. 

Lydia frowns, says, hesitantly, "You can't be serious. You're just -- inviting us? To come with you to see family that you haven't visited in years?" 

"There's a big midsummer festival," Stiles says. He sits up on his elbows, looks around the room. He's grinning wide and smells excited; Derek wants to lie down next to Stiles and bury his face in the curve of Stiles' neck, inhale his scent straight from his skin. "Everyone who lives abroad, we all bring friends, so you won't be the only newcomers, and you'll be able to see all of our traditions and take part in the rites and -- how did I not think of this before; this would be _great_!" 

Peter, across the room and in his own little space, no other pack member close to him, leans forward and asks, "Where, precisely, does your family live, Stiles?" 

Stiles' grin grows teeth. "Hälsingland," he says. "I'm part of the Hårga." 

Peter goes pale, leans back and then stands up. "The -- are you _serious_?" Stiles nods and Peter murmurs, stunned, "That explains so much." 

And then he leaves. 

Derek frowns, shifts so he can get up and go after his uncle, but the pack starts talking excitedly about Stiles' invitation and Stiles tugs Derek close so he can lay his head on Derek's thigh. Stiles smells warm and happy and contented, and Derek forgets all about Peter. 

\--

Once everyone leaves, when Derek and Stiles are lying in Derek's bed, Stiles curls into Derek and rubs his nose against Derek's skin. Stiles is sex-sated and warm with near-sleep, muscles loose and languid; Derek loves him every way he is, but this is his favourite version of Stiles, he thinks -- the two of them, alone, quiet, their scents twined together tight. 

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Stiles says, as he traces a circle on Derek's chest, round-and-round, over-and-over-and-over again. "It doesn't really get dark. You'd probably find it hard to brood." 

"Scott sounded thrilled," Derek says. "Kira, too." 

Stiles huffs out a little laugh. "I completely understand if you'd rather avoid close quarters with them for, like, two whole weeks." 

Derek hums, says, "Sounds like you don't want me to come." 

Stiles shoves him -- gives a valiant effort at pretending to try, anyway. He's far too close to slumber to do more than press his fingers just a little harder against Derek's skin. "Do," Stiles says. He yawns. "Want you to meet my family. You'd get a kick out of them. We're all insane." 

"We'll talk about it," Derek says. "Go to sleep." 

" _You_ go to sleep," Stiles mutters, but Derek feels the flicker-swish of Stiles' eyelashes go still moments later, smells sleep take over Stiles' scent as his heartbeat turns slow and steady. 

\--

Stiles leaves in a whirlwind the next morning. As soon as he's gone, the loft feels smaller, darker, less inviting. It always does when Stiles isn't around. To be honest, most of the world does. 

Derek cleans, makes coffee, showers. He doesn't have any plans so he grabs a book and sprawls out on the bed -- Stiles' scent practically embedded in the sheets and pillowcases. 

He's been reading for maybe an hour when Peter comes in, pours himself a cup of coffee without even asking and perches on the edge of the couch. Derek folds down the corner of the page he's on and closes the book, sits up and pins narrowed eyes on Peter. It looks like his uncle wants to talk but he seems -- seems and smells -- anxious. 

"Out with it," Derek finally says. 

"Did Stiles tell you anything about his family last night?" Peter asks. "Once the others left?" 

Derek frowns, says, "Just that they're all insane like he is. Why?" 

Peter lets out a breath. "The Hårga -- they have a reputation. The kind of reputation that means I'm not going to Sweden with him. They _kill_ people, Derek. Ritually, sacrificially, brutally. If you want to live, don't go. And if you want anyone else in the pack to remain among the living, tell them not to go, either." 

Derek blinks, then shakes his head, because -- has Peter actually gone crazy this time? Ritual killings? Sacrifices? _Stiles' family_? 

"It's hard to believe, I know," Peter says. He looks down at his untouched coffee. "I know how crazy this all sounds. But it makes sense. Of course Stiles wouldn't be fazed by werewolves or Dread Doctors or void kitsune when he's a member of the _Hårga_. Of _course_ he'd think of it as a grand adventure when his best friend gets bitten by a werewolf. The sort of stories that people tell --" 

Peter trails off. It takes him a while to gather himself, long, silent minutes during which Derek's head swims, tries to equate the kind of cult-like behaviour Peter's alluding to with _Stiles_ , his mate, the only thing in the world that always makes sense to Derek no matter what else is happening around them. 

"If you want any of them to start college this fall," Peter says, quietly, "if you care enough about them for that, then convince them not to go." 

Peter gets up, sets his cup on the end table, and takes two steps towards the door. Derek asks, "Would you be disappointed in me for not convincing any of them in particular? If you're right, if I let them go -- will you be disappointed in me?" 

There's a pause in Peter's movement, followed by a deep sigh. "Disappointed? Maybe. But I'd understand it. A clean break, a fresh start -- and if Scott goes with him, there's no telling what'll happen to his alpha spark. I suppose --" 

He stops, and Derek waits a moment before asking, "You suppose?" 

"I suppose I never thought Stiles would do anything to put Scott in danger," Peter says. "Not after he spent this long keeping the idiot alive. But pack's one thing, and family tradition is another. I thought we'd have to deal with Stilinski Christmases or Hanukkahs, not midsummers." 

He leaves, then. Derek lets him. 

_Eight Weeks Later_

Derek, Peter, Malia, and Lydia stand on the outside of the TSA barricade. On the inside, waiting in line, Scott and Stiles are elbowing each other, under close scrutiny of watching agents and airport police. Kira's half-heartedly trying to get them to behave even though she's expending more energy laughing at them, and Liam's obsessively checking that he's got his wallet, his phone, his license, and his boarding pass, over and over. The others are in a quasi-separate group behind them: Hayden and Corey, Mason and Theo. Sheriff Stilinski brings up the rear, rolling his eyes but smiling, too. 

"Take a picture," Peter murmurs to Derek. "Stiles excepted, we won't be seeing any of them again."


End file.
